Voldemort's Revenge
by EternalOphelia
Summary: Ch: 5 DHr Sequel to Hermione's Baby. Draco & Hermione are married & live at Malfoy Manor w. their son, Dante, & Draco's mother, Melantha. But life, predictably, isn't always smooth. They have only 6 months of peace before horrible news darkens their door.
1. Nightmares

Well, after much debate, I have decided that I _will_ do a sequel to Hermione's Baby (Haha, I just realized that I never said why I named it that. I mean, the obvious of course, but it was also sort of after Rosemary's Baby, get it? Heehee. Well, I thought it was funny). Anyway, this story will take place a little while after the last one left off. Hermione and Draco are married and together with Dante and Melantha they live at Malfoy Manor. The concept of the story will deal with Voldemort and the fact that he still has his eye on Draco and Melantha's betrayal. But it will also deal with Draco and Melantha's relationship as mother and son, because they never truly came to terms with that in the previous story. Hmm, I think I did a pretty good job giving an overview. If I think of anything else I'll post an Author's Note at the end of a chapter or something.

I hope everyone enjoys this story as much as the other one! (P.S. Dante was born on March 8th, my birthday! Heehee! I just thought I'd add that little fact).

Oh, and one more thing :P THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed my last story. Every time I read a review I was so happy. I love getting them and especially when people tell me how much they like my story or what a good author I am. You've really given me a big head :) So thanks :D

* * *

Chapter 1: Nightmares

Draco Malfoy cursed under his breath and climbed out of bed, making sure not to disturb the sleeping form beside him. His wife stirred but did not wake and he sighed with relief before slipping into the master bathroom. Once behind a closed door, he turned on the tap and splashed icy water on his face, then sat on the edge of the tub, his mind stretched.

Ten minutes later there was a soft knock at the door.

"Yeah?" he called, not bothering to stand. His wife opened the door, her hand resting on her not-yet-swollen belly as she entered. She was only a month and a half along, but this being their second child she instinctively held herself that way.

"You've been in here a while," she said, handing him a towel because he had neglected to dry his face. "Is everything—"

"I'm fine," he grunted into the towel.

"If you just went to Dumbledore he could—"

"He has better things to do than prattle over some stupid dreams, Hermione." He was growing angry at her prying. He had thought—or hoped, rather—that in the event of knowing the truth of their past his memory-dreams would stop. He was dreadfully wrong, however, for they seemed to bombard him tenfold, sometimes playing the same dream night after night for a week straight. And, even if there was some amount of happiness in the memory, the bulk of the dream was horrid and always ended with him jolting awake, his eyes darting over the room to ensure he was back in reality. "The Order needs him. The school needs him."

"Then go to St. M—"

"Hermione!"

At his tone she went silent. It wasn't often that he could reach his aims through conflict with his wife, but tonight was one of those rare times. She saw in his eyes that he truly did not wish to continue the conversation and decided to leave things as they were. It pained her to see her husband in such pain, having to relive the memories night after night, but without his cooperation there was little to be done. She theorized that, because he had fired the memory charm that long ago night when she, Draco, and one of her best friends Ron had lost their memories, he alone must have the dreams. And even though she had regained her full memory, she was not haunted the way Draco was. Ron too was immune to the dreams and had never regained so much as a minute of his memory. Hermione had, of course, told all that she could—and thought she should—of their past, leaving out certain details that she felt would only serve to hurt him.

"What was it this time?" she inquired after a long, frosty silence. She knew all of _her own_ past, but when it came to Draco's memory-dreams they held information that she could never know unless she was to ask. That, and she thought that by discussing these things with him it would help him to better handle it. Not that he outwardly showed any signs of distress, but, then again, he was never a wear's-his-heart-on-his-sleeve type of guy.

"Same," he murmured, rubbing his eyes to release the tired haze. Even though it was only five o'clock in the morning he wouldn't go back to bed. He was already far too awake and shuddered by the dream to go back to that world. "I'll be in my study," he said sourly as he stood. Hermione was thankful when he stopped briefly to kiss her before he left, for usually he was so sullen when he awoke that even her presence annoyed him and he'd skirt away without a word.

He walked morosely to his study down the hall, taking his time and allowing the memory to clear itself away before he plunged into his work. Like his wife, he was an Auror-in-training. In two and a half years he would take his Auror's exam and hopefully be able to aid the Order of the Phoenix better. As it was he was entrusted with little. And though he was told it was because of his lack of experience, young age, and responsibilities as a husband and father, he knew deep down it was because of his father and would-be mother, and the tactlessness he displayed during his years at Hogwarts. He was a changed man, a family man, but no one could truly forget the stigma his family name carried.

It was well into the morning, around eight o'clock, when he was interrupted by a heavy knock at the door.

"Yes _Melantha_?" he sighed, knowing her knock. He really was in no mood to deal with her. After she revealed she was his real mother, and not his hateful aunt, in his seventh year at school she had been adamant about mending bridges and acting out the part of mother and son. He was less than enthusiastic about it.

"You can try calling me mother," she said tartly as the door swung open, his six-month-old son Dante perched gleefully on her hip. He wondered absently, for the hundredth time, when she would move out and find her own place. Not that room was a problem, but even in the vastness of the Manor she still managed to find him to harass him.

"And _you_ can try not bothering me every five minutes," he shot back.

Melantha frowned and set Dante on the edge of his desk, holding him safely by the shoulders.

"Breakfast is ready."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're eating if I have to have a house elf shove food down your throat. I won't have you starve just because you can't stand being in the same room as me." Hurt was clearly evident in her voice.

"Glad to know that you know the reason for it," he said menacingly, his brow narrowed and his lip curled into a sneer. "But I am far from starving. I'll eat when I will. Now leave me alone."

"Drac—"

"I'm busy, _mother_," he stressed, waving at the stack of papers and volumes of books on his desk. "Aren't there better things for you to do than irritate me?"

She sighed, defeated, and collected Dante into her arms. He reached his chubby little arms out to his father, who contemplated keeping him there. With a flick of his wand, that had been sitting on his desk, a playpen appeared, laden with toys. Melantha set her grandson in it and marched out of the room in an angry huff. Draco chuckled under his breath, knowing that she was going straight to Hermione to berate her about her "unbelievable" husband.

* * *

Harry and Ron came rushing into the room, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. Ginny hissed irritably, much resembling her mother, and snapped at them to wash up before dinner.

"You sound just like mum," Ron muttered, frowning.

"Unlike you, _Ronald_, I have a job! I work all day and then you and Harry come traipsing in here and make an even bigger mess of our depressing little house." Ron opened his mouth to protest, to say that he and Harry were doing important things in training to be Aurors, but she hissed on as if not seeing his attempt. "Who pays the rent? And for food? And everything else? Lavender and I. Now go clean up before my wand finds a new home in your—"

"Ginny, sweety," Harry cut in carefully, not wishing to anger her further. She seemed rather more on edge lately than usual. "We're sorry, it's just—"

"It's fine," she sighed, then stuffed her wand stubbornly back into her pocket. She was clearly overworked, but Harry sensed some deeper trouble within her. Ron gave him a hidden smile, thanking him for calming his unruly sister, then sped out of the room to clean up, though he would most likely make a detour to find Lavender first. Harry was just about to leave as well, when Ginny caught his arm and pulled him back, her face solemn.

"Gin?" he asked, a little scared at her now quiet and standoffish behavior. It was never a good sign when she went so quickly from raging to mute. "What's wrong?"

"I—" she began, but then burst into tears, startling and terrifying him immediately. Ginny had always been such a strong and independent girl, much of the reason Harry had been so attracted to her. This sudden displace of "weak" emotions sat like an anvil in his stomach. Did something drastic happen while he and Ron were away at training?

"Ginny, tell me," he all but pleaded, pulling her to him, all his concentration on keeping his voice calm so to calm her. "What's happened?"

"I'm so scared, Harry," she whispered, confirming his fears. Ginny was _never_ scared. After being possessed by Voldemort in her first year and nearly dying, there wasn't much else for her to fear.

"Of what?"

She hesitated for such a long time that Harry wondered if she'd heard him.

"Harry," she said, not meeting his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

A wave of relief so powerful washed over him that he scarcely remembered being scared a moment before. It wasn't until he saw her tear stained cheeks that his glee sobered and he held his girlfriend back at arm's length. Surely she should be happy at this news. They had been talking about marriage and children and going off to leave together without Ron and Lavender. They were eager to start their lives together, to be a real family and let Ron and Lavender, who had been engaged for several months now, start theirs as well.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, smiling in an effort to see her smile. She didn't respond happily, however, and sniffled in a sob.

"It's _your_ baby, Harry!" she squeaked as if it were news to him. Well of course it was his! "Who would Voldemort want just as much as you? Your child!" She was now in such hysterics that Harry feared Ron or Lavender would come bursting into the room and add to the already blown-out-of-proportions atmosphere.

"But I thought you wanted children," he said with a frown.

"I do," she sighed and wiped her eyes. They heard footsteps approaching and she quickly added, "We'll talk about this later," then Disapparated with a pop, no doubt to avoid her Ron and future sister-in-law.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked, having heard her leave. Lavender stood clutching his arm, her eyes full of concern as well. It had been a hard thing for Harry to decide to live with Ron and her, for he felt somehow like he was betraying Hermione in some way. Though, after a few discussions with her, he felt more at ease and ready to give Lavender a shot. He found that he was not disappointed, for over time she had out-grown her giggling girlishness and showed signs of definite potential.

"She's not feeling well," Harry said quickly, not really lying. "She's probably gone to take some potion."

At this Ron smiled a little and made for the kitchen counter, where Ginny and Lavender had made a simple dinner in their haste after work. It wasn't always so "traditional" in their house, for many nights it was the boys who came home early and cooked, and sometimes no one came home until well into the night and had eaten at work or training.

Harry decided it was best not to tell Ron their good news, for Ginny was not exactly in the right frame of mind. He had to convince her that it wasn't a bad thing that she was pregnant, for nothing in the world could keep him from protecting his own child from Voldemort's filthy hands. Soon enough Ginny would want the others to know and then, at a dinner at the Weasley's, they would announce her pregnancy. Mrs. Weasley would undoubtedly cry, half in joy and half apprehension at the fact that she and Harry were not married yet. Though he doubted it would be much of a problem, for she looked at Harry like family already.

With a smile, secret smile Harry dished up a plate for himself and one for Ginny.

_A father_, he mused, the prospect of it sinking in. He was both excited and scared, as well he should be. For Ginny was right, his family didn't exactly have a reputation of good fortune. _I'm going to be a father._

* * *

"How wretched," Draco laughed, when Hermione returned from The Burrow with news that Harry and Ginny were expecting a child. There was nothing of a wedding in the air yet, but she assumed that with Mrs. Weasley would be hot on their heels with heaps of parchments in her arms, the plans of their ceremony drawn out.

"Stop it," Hermione warned, not raising her voice because he held Dante in his arms. She never showed anything but happy kindness around her son, something she hoped her husband and mother-in-law would aspire to. "In times like these there is no reasons you shouldn't be just as concerned by this news as I am."

He gave his wife a blank look.

"Concerned?"

"Yes, concerned. Harry's son or daughter will be in just as much danger as himself."

Draco's eyes widened slightly, for the idea hadn't even crossed his mind. He had nearly forgotten that Harry was The Boy Who Lived, for the threat had turned to him and his family.

"I hardly see a reason for them to worry," he said stubbornly. Hermione sighed and lifted her son from his arms.

"And why not?"

"Because Voldemort has all but cast the Dark Mark over the Manor. I think you and I have a little more to worry about than Potter and his Children of the Boy Who Lived."

"You are heartless," she spat, careful at her tone. Dante frowned and reached for his father. Reluctantly Hermione obliged.

Draco seemed horrified at her words. He set Dante in his playpen, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hall, closing the door behind them.

"Are you telling me that our son, our family, is worth less than _Potter_?"

"Certainly not! But I have a right to be worried about my best friend and his family, just as much as I worry about my own. If you had friends you'd understand." It was a low blow and the instant it left her lips she regretted it. Draco, however, took the insult with grace. He kissed Hermione softly, lovingly, on the forehead, then disappeared around the corner.

It wasn't until the following evening that Hermione saw her husband again—for he had come to bed well after she fell asleep and awoke before she did—and in the company of his mother no less. But they were not bickering and tearing at each other's hair as usual. She almost didn't want to approach them for fear they would erupt at her presence; Melantha had turned a cold shoulder to Hermione, presumably for her slight to her son. She didn't fight it; she knew he had a right to be angry and his mother had a right as well. Though she shuddered to think of them coming together only to smite her.

"Hey," she said, taking a seat on the sofa opposite them and Dante.

"Hermione," Melantha said, her eyes on her grandson.

Draco didn't look up. But, to her surprise, he didn't appear angry. Some other emotion was stirring within him and she felt a pang of guilt at jumping to conclusions about what he weighed as useful of thought. He had better things to mull over than his wife's sharp tongue, especially when she knew that he knew she didn't mean what she said. And it was then that she noticed that Melantha was not sullen either, but possessed of the same demeanor as Draco.

Dante was blissfully unaware of any disturbance in the air and played merrily with his wooden dragons.

"We need to talk," Draco said, finally turning his eyes on her. She was noticeably taken aback.

"Draco?" As if by command he came to her side, holding her close as though to console her. She was too overcome to respond with anything but surprise.

"There's a reason I reacted the way I did with you yesterday," he began. Melantha was now looking at them, her face arranged so not to cause alarm, though that's what immediately happened in Hermione's heart. Something was definitely wrong. "I'm just going to say this, there's no sense in carrying it out." He sighed deeply, then kissed her cheek before verifying her worst reservations. "The Order gave Melantha news three days ago that Voldemort is headed in our direction. All inside information points him here." Hermione let out a woeful gasp and struggled to reach her son. Draco held her firmly in place. "He's not after Dante," he assured her, and she believed him completely.

"Then—"

"He's after _you_."

* * *

Ahhh! Why can't they just have normal, happy lives? Well, heehee, because I'm evil and torture them, that's why. I hope everyone liked this first chapter. I know it was fast, but my boyfriend is out of town for 2 weeks and I have little else to do, other than my job and aerobics. I'm a loser, I know :P

REVIEW!


	2. The Blakes

Recap:

"Then—"

"He's after _you_."

* * *

Chapter 2: The Blakes

Apparition. Portkeys. Floo Powder. It was all useless to them for they could never be certain how safe they would be, whether they were being watched or not. And so, gathering all that was necessary, the disheveled family set off at dawn in an inconspicuous-looking black automobile.

"I still don't see why Harry and the others can't know where we're going," Hermione said with much irritation. It was two days after she had been told of Voldemort's aims, giving her ample time to settle back into the normality of such things as arguing with her callous husband.

"Because," Draco sighed, "the less people that know where we are the better. Do you think your great hero would want it on his head that he gave us to Voldemort?"

Hermione was about to retort when his words took form in her mind. No, of course she wouldn't want that weight on Harry's shoulders. Draco was right, no one could know where they were going for all their safety.

She yawned deeply and curled into her husband, aware of the fact that he was stiff and unyielding to her. Her mind was on different things, however. Last night she Apparated to Harry and Ron's house in the country, very much against Draco and Melantha's wishes. She wondered if he'd found out and his coldness was a result of that. Not that it mattered; she had been right before in saying that if he had friends he would understand. She _needed_ to tell them at least that she was leaving. And that's precisely what she did, her soul aching to tell them more. She could still see the agony in their faces when she delivered the bad news.

_"How long will you be gone?" Harry all but demanded, after Hermione refused to tell them where she and her family were going. "And what if we need to reach you?"_

_"We won't be gone long," Hermione said in a would-be reassuring voice, if not for the slight tremble and the fact that she really didn't know when they were returning. "Probably just until after the baby is born. I can't very well sit around and wait for Voldemort to come and take me while I'm pregnant."_

_"And we can't have _any_ contact?" Ron asked, biting his lower lip. He and Lavender were planning on getting married soon. But how could he when Hermione was leaving for an unknown amount of time? He couldn't get married without her there._

_"This isn't any easier for me, you know," Hermione sighed, the events leading up to their decision to leave still fresh in her head. It had been Melantha's idea, though she had been reluctant to say it, knowing how much Hermione would hate leaving her home and friends to run off and hide. Not that that's all they would be doing, of course. They would all prepare themselves for the inevitable battle that would surely take place, Draco and Melantha more so with the growing life inside of Hermione. She would not be idle though, for there was much to do. Little Dante would be past one after his brother or sister was born, old enough in Draco's mind for him to obtain a wand and begin simple spells. The more he knew the safer he would be, was Draco's reasoning, and grudgingly Hermione agreed. "I don't want to leave, but it's the safest place for Dante and the new baby. Draco and Melantha will take care of me. My only qualm is how much I'll miss you all."_

_Ginny gave a soft sniffle, her face already glowing with pregnancy._

_"Just come back," Harry said, straightening his face. He had always been so good at making her feel better, only now it seemed he too could not fully control his emotions. He was bordering on true grief, his struggle evident. "I love you, Hermione," he whispered, embracing her like the brother she saw him as._

_"I love you too, Harry," she answered. "And don't worry. How could I not come back when you still owe me a re-match at Wizard's Chess?"_

_He chuckled half-heartedly and was loathe to let her go and allow the others to say their good-byes. In the end she had to rush home to avoid caving to an all-out breakdown in their living room._

"So where are we going?" Hermione asked after they had been driving for over an hour. To ensure that she would not tell her friends both Draco and Melantha agreed to not tell her before they left.

"My brother-in-law's house," Melantha said, looking at her through the rearview mirror. Hermione didn't know where she learned to drive, or where the car came from for that matter, but it seemed like such an important fact in the grand scheme of things. "He lives in Scotland with his wife and son. We'll be safe there."

"Are you sure?" She had to ask.

"Of course," Melantha laughed. "He's Dante's older brother."

"Right," Hermione sighed, but she couldn't help her apprehension at meeting a new set of people when she and her family were in the greatest of danger. But, then again, nothing seemed right about what they were doing.

* * *

Hermione's first impression of Galen Blake was how completely different he was from his sister-in-law. While Melantha was strong, out-going, and more often than not full of life, Galen emitted a sense of caution in his standoffishness and the shifty way he surveyed the group that stood in a huddle under the tiny roof of his porch to escape the rain.

"Galen, hi!" Melantha greeted him warmly, pulling him into a hug that Hermione gathered he would have rather gone without. "This is my son, Draco, as you know." She motioned to him in the back, the rain soaking his back for he'd pushed Hermione up to the house to keep her warm and dry. At the moment, however, Hermione felt she would have much rather been in Draco's position—it was an unbelievably hot September day. That, and Galen wouldn't take his eyes off her. She felt very much exposed. "And this is his wife, Hermione, and their son Dante."

At the mention of his brother's name Galen's face darkened and he seemed very much to want to slam the front door in their faces.

"Did anyone see you?" he asked, ignoring the introductions.

"Of course not," Melantha sighed, rolling her eyes. "Now can we come in? Dante will catch a cold, and Hermione is in no condition to be out in the rain either."

"Yes, right," Galen stumbled over his words as he backed into the house so they could enter. "Of course."

Once inside he quickly excused himself and returned a moment later with a strikingly beautiful blonde woman, who did _not_ belong in this dark and gloomy house, and a very handsome young man who couldn't have been older than twenty. He had dark hair like his father and soft deep blue eyes like his mother, the supermodel blonde. And he too could not keep from staring at Hermione. She wanted to slap them both. Or wished very much that his wife would slap her husband and son.

"Hello," said the blonde, her smile perfect like the rest of her. "I'm Sitara, Galen's wife." She shook all their hands individually, giving each a toothy smile that seemed to win them over. Hermione felt oddly comforted by this woman who could live in a house in the middle of nowhere with her intense little family.

"And I," said their son, immediately taking Hermione's hand and bringing it to his lips. Draco made a pitiful attempt to suppress a growl in his throat, "am Kamal. But you may call me Kam." And though swooned by his good looks and even better charm, Hermione did not hesitate in her response.

"It's lovely to meet you, Kam," she said silkily, slipping her hand easily from his to grasp Draco's. "This is my husband, Draco, and our son, Dante."

Kamal's smile drooped but did not fall and he shook Draco's hand with a renewed vigor.

Later that night, in the comfort of their own room, and with Dante asleep in a crib at the foot of their bed, Draco expressed his concerns about the family they were staying with.

"If that scum lays one finger on you," he seethed, referring to Kamal, "I will not hesitate to obliterate him. He has no business looking at you that way."

Though comforted by his intense jealousy, Hermione could not help but feel that her husband was being a little over protective. The Blakes were, after all, providing them with a safe haven.

"I think he's very sheltered," was her response. "His father doesn't look like he's been out of the house in decades. And I wouldn't be surprised if he pressed the others to stay as well."

"As true as that is, that doesn't mean he should drool over someone else's _wife_."

"What do you mean 'as true as that is'? What do you know what them?" She was asking with nothing but curiosity.

Draco groaned and shifted his position on the mattress, tucking his arms under his head.

"Did Melantha tell you something?"

"Of course. She told me what I needed to know to trust them."

"And that was?" Hermione pressed. She had a strange desire to know everything little thing about them.

"After his brother was killed," Draco finally caved, referring to Galen, "he staged his own death and the deaths of his wife and son. They moved to Scotland and lived in secrecy. Only Melantha and Dumbledore, until now, knew where they were and that they were still alive. Apparently," he went on, his voice monotone and bored, "Galen had been a Healer and delivered Melantha's baby." Hermione tried to keep a straight face as he referred to himself as "Melantha's baby".

"He couldn't have been happy about that," Hermione reasoned. "His brother murdered by her brother-in-law who fathered her child."

"He was furious," Draco said flatly. "He would have refused to do it if not for Dumbledore. And the same goes for the situation now." He turned on his side suddenly, holding her eyes. "That's why he looks at you like that. In his eyes you're the reason his family is being disrupted. The last time it happened he lost a brother."

"Sitara and Kamal don't seem to have a problem with it."

"Why would they? They've been forced to feign death for eighteen years. I'd want to see some new faces too."

"So they've _never_ left this property?"

"They've never left this house." Hermione immediately thought of the late Sirius Black.

"What about food? And other supplies?"

Draco shrugged.

"Who knows," he yawned. "And who cares."

Hermione wanted to say that she did, that she was fascinated with the Blakes, but stopped herself. Draco clearly did not like them, nor would he appreciate Hermione's interest in them. So she curled up beside him and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come soon.

* * *

Draco reluctantly left the house early the next morning with Melantha. They were going to meet Dumbledore in southern Scotland that evening. The only reason Draco finally agreed to go was because it was important to Hermione and Dante's safety.

This left Hermione in a very odd and uncomfortable situation. While Galen stared at her with something close to fear and anger, Sitara and Kamal treated her like a goddess and all but kissed the floor at her feet. After breakfast, Galen retreated to his study in the back of his house, leaving Hermione alone with the adoration of the other two. She clung to Dante like a security blanket.

And then, quite suddenly, it was only Kamal and his unblinking eyes, for Sitara had gone to make lunch.

"So you named Dante after my late uncle?" Kamal asked, seemingly enthralled by her answer: a simple shrug. "What was Hogwarts like?" He would have attended had it not been for the move and his premature death.

"Brilliant," she said honestly. "That's where I met Draco."

Kamal's expression shifted slightly.

"Did you do well in your studies? Dad thinks I would have received top marks had I gone."

"I did fairly well," she said modestly. "Before we had to come here I was in training to be an Auror."

"Fascinating!" he quipped, inching closer to her and Dante on the rug of the living room. Dante seemed oblivious to their conversation, his fat little hands occupied with the array of new toys he'd been presented with by Sitara; Kamal's baby toys. Hermione was grateful, but not too keen on accepting them.

"So your father taught you?"

"And mum. They both had all their old school books so I learned from them. When I was old enough dad put a spell on the house so I could practice magic without alarming the whole countryside." He chuckled under his breath. "I set the house on fire three times in the first year."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said suddenly, "but I can't stop wondering what it must be like to never leave a place all your life."

"It's fine," Kamal said, patting her shoulder, his hand lingering a little longer than was necessary. "I find myself wondering how you can live outside in a world with such horrible things."

"Like Voldemort?"

Kamal let out a horrified yell and backed away as if scalded. Sitara came bolting into the room, and a second later they were joined by a seething Galen.

"What's going on!" he demanded, his eyes fixed on Hermione. "What did you do!"

"I didn't—"

"She said _his_ name," Kamal answered like a dutiful son.

"How _dare_ you!"

"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," Hermione protested, using Dumbledore's words. "And I have every right to say his name," she added hotly, suddenly very mad and protective. "He's after _me_."

Needless to say Hermione was left to her own devices for the rest of the day, eating in silence with the Blakes who now ignored her presence. Their fear of Voldemort was so great that they were still trembling when they went to bed around eleven o'clock. Draco and Melantha were still not back by midnight, so Hermione decided to turn in as well, carrying her sleeping son silently through the eerily quiet house.

"Hermione!" whispered an urgent-sounding voice in her ear. She bolted up, face to face with Kamal, the only light coming from the candle he held. Draco was not back yet, and the clock in the corner told her it was two in the morning.

"What is it?" she sighed, thankful that Dante was still asleep.

"Come here." He grabbed her hand and led her out of the room, down the hall, and into his own room. Once they were inside he closed the door and with a flick of his wand the room burst with light.

"What's going on?" She did not appreciate being woken in the middle of the night by someone who had caused her entire day to go to hell.

"I want to apologize for what happened earlier," he said, his voice holding a true note of concern. "I was out of line and I feel simply dreadful about how my parents reacted."

"And what made you change your mind?"

"I realize that you have had a very different upbringing than myself. And you are very much entitled to say his name. I am sorry."

For a long while Hermione didn't respond. And then, very slowly, she nodded.

"Very well," she said. "I forgive you."

The instant the words left her lips Kamal came barreling at her and swept her into a tight embrace. He kissed her cheek, twirled her around, then set her down again, his hands still on her arms. She felt dizzy and no longer tired. She wanted to talk with him some more now that he'd realized his error. She only hoped Sitara would do the same, for she truly liked the woman.

"I have to say something, Kamal," she said, gently shrugging off his hands. He looked slightly hurt, but was more happy at the fact that she was speaking to him again.

"Please, call me Kam."

"I'm in love with Draco," she said, holding his eyes. "I realize that you have been holed up here your entire life and I am the first person you've met your age, and I'm a girl. But I'm also a wife and a mother. You're a sweet guy, but I would feel much more comfortable if you wouldn't look at me the way you do. Or," she sighed, "touch me anymore."

Kamal let out a small, almost hurt noise and nodded.

"Forgive me," he said, reaching for her hand, though at the last second snapped it back to his chest. "It's true; I am very interested in you. You're beautiful and sweet and caring. You're how I imagine the woman I will marry if I ever leave this house."

"You're nearly twenty," Hermione said, having learned his age earlier. "Why haven't you left yet?"

"I would be endangering my family if I left," he sighed. "And I won't risk that. I only dream, and that's all I have. And then you showed up and for an instant I believed I got my wish."

Hermione was appropriately crushed and flattered. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this charming boy, but what she had said was the truth. She loved Draco and always would. Kamal was nice, and perhaps if he had better social skills—he was touching her arm again—and Draco wasn't a factor, she might consider a date with him.

"Promise me something, Kamal."

"Anything."

She frowned at his eagerness to make her happy. He was such a sad person. It made her want to cry.

"Don't give Draco a reason to be more angry with you than he already is."

"But how have I wounded Draco in the first place?" And he really had no idea. In his mind he had done nothing wrong.

"You are overly interested in me and he is a very jealous and protective man. It is very much in his nature to take physical action when he feels threatened."

"Are you saying that I threaten him and he might attack me?" Kamal was horrified at the very thought.

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "The last thing I want is for you to get hurt."

"It is?" Kamal asked, brightening immediately.

"Good night, Kamal," she said. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Good night, Hermione. Good night."

He opened the door for her like a gentleman, and would have escorted her back to her room and possibly tucked her in, if not for the sound of the front door opening. They heard the muffled voices of Draco and Melantha in the front room, and then the creaking of the stairs.

Hermione pushed Kamal gently back into his room and pulled the door closed, praying he would stay put. She hurried down the hall and met them at the top of the stairs, looking weathered and as if they'd just had a row with one another.

"Good night," Melantha yawned, giving Hermione's shoulder a gentle squeeze. She disappeared into the darkness and down the hall.

"What kept you?" Hermione asked, cupping Draco's face in her hands.

"Not now," he whispered, his voice husky. He captured her lips, backing her down the hall towards their room. He was fiery with passion, and, all of a sudden, so was she.

* * *

Well, I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but you did get to meet the Blakes. Interesting bunch, and much too intense for me. But we have only begun to scratch the surface with them. And there is still so much more! Haha!

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	3. Share The Hate

Recap:

"What kept you?" Hermione asked, cupping Draco's face in her hands.

"Not now," he whispered, his voice husky. He captured her lips, backing her down the hall towards their room. He was fiery with passion, and, all of a sudden, so was she.

* * *

Chapter 3: Share The Hate

"I missed you," she breathed, pulling at his sopping cloak. He didn't answer, but buried his face in her neck, his fingers clawing at her airy nightgown. Once over her head, she was left naked in the dancing firelight of the candle on the bedside table. Her stomach was still taught and well-muscled, her skin as creamy and inviting as ever.

She fumbled with his belt buckle, grunting at it in irritation, her desire mounting like a bad fever. After they were both free of clothing, Draco laid his wife on the bed as gently as if she were made of glass. He kissed her soft stomach, her warm breasts, the insides of her thighs, pushing her passion to new levels.

"Don't tease me," she hissed, though was not at all angry. He pulled himself up to her face, grinning with seduction.

"I would never dream," he purred in her ear, his hot body pressed to hers. It didn't matter that the rain had only furthered the heat, making it now humid and sticky. They were both already covered in a sheen of sweat, but neither paid it any attention.

All at once Hermione felt complete, her husband, the love of her life, pumping himself vigorously into her. His grunts matched her moans, their bodies working in sync with one another. When they released, it was all too soon and were both immediately ready for more.

"I never thought I could want someone this badly," Hermione whispered, panting. Draco rolled over, his hands firmly on her hips, to rest on his back. He smirked up at her, and she smirked back.

By three o'clock they were not surprisingly exhausted, though still filled with passion. They satisfied themselves with wet kisses here and there, and husky words of desire.

"Tomorrow," Draco said, his body simply unwilling to do what he wanted, what he craved. It seemed silly to him suddenly that he had ever been with another person, ever even wanted another. Hermione was all there was, all there should be. How could he have not seen that before?

"Why did I ever resist you?"

"You were stupid and foolish. But I may forgive you someday."

"Oh really?" she teased, kissing a trail up his chest. She stopped just above his lips. "Well, without adequate forgiveness, I will be forced to feign prudishness."

"How's this for forgiveness?" Draco snapped, flipping her over onto her back. She was about to protest, to say that they were both too tired for another go, when she felt his searing and experienced tongue on her, pushing hungrily inside her. Her entire body tensed, her hands clutching the bed sheets as if they would support the great waves of ecstasy that were consuming her.

She shuddered with release, then went limp. Between her legs Draco chuckled, blowing hot air on her and making her shiver.

"Stop," she breathed, her voice heavy, her eyes drooping. "I love you Draco."

He came up beside her, crushing her wonderfully against him in his drowsiness.

"I love your body, Hermione."

"Ass," she yawned.

"Witch," he retorted.

"Good night."

"Night…"

* * *

It was nearly lunchtime by the time Draco and Hermione made their way downstairs. Melantha had taken care of Dante, bathing and feeding and changing him. Hermione knew the reason for such focused and unasked for aid was due to the fact that she was unable to raise her own son. And she allowed this attention, making sure that she was also there every step of the way to be a complete part of her child's life.

Kamal greeted Hermione with such enthusiasm one would think she'd just returned from a suicide-mission. Draco glared hotly, but said nothing and tucked himself behind the kitchen table to await his lunch. Dante sat in a highchair beside him, tugging every now and then at his father's ear and giggling madly when Draco would snort in irritation.

"Where are your parents?" Hermione asked casually, though the palms of her hands began to perspire. They couldn't be far, and she doubted the reason for the absence had little to do with anything but herself.

"It's the most amazing thing!" he answered, all smiles. Draco looked up from the Scottish Prophet, his nose wrinkled. "Melantha gave them a message from Dumbledore and they Apparated to go meet him!"

"They left the house!" She dropped the roll she had been reaching for, her entire body suddenly numb. "When!"

"A few hours ago," he informed her, though now he seemed slightly off. "I would have loved to go with them, only they needed someone familiar to stay at the house."

"Just what the Order needs," Draco muttered under his breath. "A pair of lunatics Apparating from their self-inflicted house arrest. Perrrrfect."

Kamal stood, his wand out. Hermione let out a sound of protest, not believing her eyes.

"Please," he said through his teeth, and Hermione realized it was the first time she'd seen him angry. And it truly scared her. He didn't have proper training; he was likely to blow the house out from under them, "refrain from speaking about my parents that way. Their situation is something you know nothing about."

"You can't get something for nothing," Draco shot back, though he played the part of the calm, collected arbitrator. "I don't appreciate the way you look at my wife, or the way you talk to her." Though his words were reasonable, his tone suggested bodily harm at the next slip-up. "Just because you've been locked away for eighteen years with your psychotic parents doesn't give you the right to slobber over _someone else's wife_."

"I do no such thing! I respect Hermione's boundaries! She is not some doll to be played with!"

"If you so much as _look_ at her in a way I don't approve you will regret the sorry day you were born! Is that quite understood?"

Though she wanted to scream and stamp her foot, all Hermione could do was stare at the scene before her. Why did men insist on arguing over her as though it were none of her business? She ought to slap the both of them for causing her son to cry.

She pushed past her husband and plucked Dante from his highchair, then left the room without a word. At the moment she didn't give a damn if they ripped each other's heads off. At least she would have some peace and quiet. Wasn't the reason they came her to be safe and stress free? It seemed she had nothing but Draco-induced stress and the threat of him attacking Kamal.

"That's what I get for marrying a Slytherin," she sighed.

* * *

Draco paced the length of his aunt/mother's bedroom six or seven times before he even attempted to speak. His nerves were shot and the last thing he needed was what had just occurred in the kitchen with Hermione and Kamal. She was refusing to speak with the both of them and was currently holed up in their room with Dante, plotting their imminent deaths, he supposed.

"How does he know about Galen?" he blurted out, halting mid-step. Melantha took a long sip of her tea, very calm beside the fact that her son was coming undone before her eyes and all their lives were in complete peril. The too-sweetness of her tea seemed to be the most important thing at the moment.

"He has probably known for many years," Melantha offered. "Only he wouldn't have been worth a second thought until now. I'd imagine the both of them returning this evening very much in hysterics. They've spent most of their lives in seclusion, hiding from the very thing we brought to their door. I doubt we would still be here if not for Dumbledore."

"Hmph," Draco groaned. "Dumbledore."

"Do you not think he's doing all in his power to protect us?"

"I think he's growing senile. I want to take Hermione and Dante somewhere else, somewhere further from here. Like America."

"Distance doesn't necessarily guarantee safety."

"You sound just like the old man!"

"Don't get angry with me, Draco! I'm trying to help you! You would think you'd be a little more grateful!"

"Grateful!" he spat. "For what? Causing this whole mess!" Melantha looked simply appalled. "If you hadn't been so weak to give me away none of this would have happened!"

"You're right! It wouldn't have! You would have been dead before your first birthday!"

"What's going on in here!" came an angry and bitter voice through the door. An instant later Galen stomped in, his eyes unforgiving.

"NOTHING!" Draco and Melantha answered together. Sitara appeared at her husband's side, with possibly her first frown in eighteen years plastered across her face.

"This is not going to work out," Sitara said, sounding very much like her husband. "You cannot stay here."

"Good," Draco hissed. "We didn't plan to." He shoved his way out of the room, calling for Hermione before he was even out the door. She appeared in the hallway, looking anxiously. Clearly she had heard the whole fight through the wall.

"We can't leave, Draco," she said, glancing around as if the danger were upon them. "We can't endanger Dante or the baby." She hugged herself around the middle, backing away from her husband's advances.

"Damn it, Hermione! We have to go! This place is no longer safe!"

"But it's under the Fidelius Charm! How can it not be safe!"

"These _people_—" He gestures wildly to the group that is now formed in the hall. "—want nothing more than to go back to their boring little lives in seclusion! And we are in their way! We're not safe!"

"That's a lie!" Sitara snapped. "We will do anything that Dumbledore asks us. You are in no danger of us!"

"Dumbledore asked you to allow us to stay here! Not a moment again you told us to leave! Don't add hypocrite to your already long list of hopeless human attributes!"

"I was not speaking to you! I was telling your whoring mother to leave! She needs no protection and she has very much over-stayed her welcome!"

"Don't you dare talk about my mother that way!" Draco roared, producing his wand with such speed Hermione couldn't recall if he'd been holding it all along. "Her husband was murdered before her eyes only minutes before she was raped by his attacker! She has done _nothing_ to you and yours and still you treat her lower than a dog! She has suffered and you make her suffer more! Is their no shame in your dysfunctional hell hole!"

The house grew so silent all of a sudden that Draco's heavy breathing was all that was heard.

"There is nothing I would love more than to Apparate as far from here as I can get," Draco said slowly, calculating. He stepped back and took hold of Hermione's arm. "But I have a duty as a husband and a father to protect my family, no matter the consequences. We will stay here until Dumbledore says otherwise, and so will my mother. You have no right to kick her out."

Draco, Hermione, and Melantha ducked into Hermione and Draco's room, where Dante was fast asleep in his afternoon nap, leaving the Blakes stunned in the hall. But they were only blessed with a few minutes of silence, for soon the house was alive with strained screams again.

All those not involved in the family affair pressed themselves against the door to better hear.

"What do you mean you're leaving!" Galen stammered. "You can't leave!"

"I'm three years past the legal age!" came Kamal's defiant voice. "I may do whatever I choose. And I choose to join the Order. I'm leaving tonight."

"Tonight!" Sitara's voice was choked with sobs. "But—"

"I cannot be persuaded to stay, mother. I realize that my time spent here has been useless. I will not sit around and fear an enemy I have never seen! I intend to train myself day and night to be prepared for my chance to fight!"

"You'll be killed!"

"I would rather die in battle than die a coward," he hissed. There was a clamor of footsteps, the slamming of the front door, then an outburst of uncontrollable sobbing. Hermione gathered that Kamal had not been taught to Apparate so he couldn't run away. She also assumed that the reason his parents didn't try to follow him was because they knew it would only cause more harm and a deeper rift.

"That was unexpected," Draco said dryly, taking a seat on his bed.

"That was noble," Hermione said, and Draco huffed. "Well it was."

"We need to discuss some things," Melantha said, grabbing their attention; Hermione's more so than Draco's. "It's about what Dumbledore wanted."

"Yes?"

"You better sit down."

**

* * *

**

"Would do you mean he's after Ron?" Hermione seethed through her teeth, only partially aware of the fact that Dante had woken and Draco was changing him by the window. "How did this happen!"

"The Order received a tip a few days ago," Melantha said as easily as she could. "Voldemort caught wind of the fact that you knew he was after you. He knew Draco would take you into hiding and so he's targeting your weaknesses."

Draco snorted, covering it as a cough.

"What about Harry and Ginny?" was her next thought. Surely he would be after them next.

"Well," she sighed. "Harry will _always_ be at the center of Voldemort's thoughts. And Ginny is the thing that's most precious to him. I mean, not to say that Draco and Dante aren't so for you, but he can't get to them so he's going after the next best thing."

"How childish!"

Melantha let out a slight chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. Voldemort was, and always would be, very childish. Evil, cunning, and ruthless, but always very, very childish. Though neediness was never a factor. If he could he would reach his goals without the aid of others. He never needed people.

Hermione, on the other hand, needed those around her. For stability, for love, for company. They were her weakness, a very obvious and pain weakness that caused her great anguish now. She had put her best friends in danger. And all over something as trivial as blood!

"I hate blood!" she shouted suddenly, startling everyone into silence. "All the nonsense about pureblood and half-blood and what have you. It disguises itself as a bid for power, but blood has nothing to do with it! Voldemort is a half-blood!"

"But he's the heir of Slytherin," Draco pointed out. "The taint of blood can be overlooked with such heritage."

Hermione glared daggers at him, knowing that he was only trying to help, though she didn't feel sorry. Not at the moment when her emotions were being tossed around like a grimy old dog toy. It wasn't his fault that he had been brought up the way he had, forced into a life of hatred and bigotry. She was lucky that he turned out to be such a sweet and caring man, despite his sour disposition. He actually turned out quite wonderful.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione groaned. "I have the cards stacked against me. I'm a half-blood and muggle-born. I'm married to a blood traitor of high society. And I have the will and capacity to love…I'm screwed."

"Why are you being to cynical about this!" Draco barked. "You, of all people, I would expect more from. A declaration of undying loyalty to your people and what you stand for. Not for you to lie down and wait to die."

"Well excuse me for not being so gung-ho about everything all the time! I have a right to be depressed at a depressing situation! I'm holed up in this place, with people who don't want me and hate me; I'm being hunted; my friends are being hunted; and I can't do a damn thing about it _except_ wait! It's the worst place for me! I should be out there fighting but instead I'm here having this argument with you!"

"You'll be glad for these arguments when I'm gone," Draco said coolly, then stomped out of the room, their son cradled in his arms.

"What did he mean by that?" Hermione was still too angry for her voice to express the new emotion that was pulling at her heartstrings: fear. And perhaps a bit of guilt.

"I don't know," Melantha moaned, grabbing her head. "War brings out the worst in people!"

"You don't think he'd do something irrational, do you?"

"He's far too protective of you to go off like an idiot and try to fight a losing battle. He knows you would follow him, thus bringing you into the danger he was trying to keep away…He's probably gone to sulk downstairs where he can glare openly at Galen and Sitara." She walked to the door, though had no intention of leaving just yet. They had a few more things to discuss. "I'll keep an eye on him anyway though," she added, then came back into the room.

"He really worries me, you know."

"I know. But, then again, it's all part of being married. For better or for worse, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione laughed bitterly. "But I was under the impression that 'or' meant the opposites were interchangeable."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Woo! So that was a little of something. I think next time I'll put in a scene back in England with the others, just for a change of scenery. I like how this is going…Poor Hermione and Draco, things are just not going well for them. And Kamal! Whoa! Who knows what kind of trouble he'll get into on his own with no survival skills…One can only imagine ;P

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	4. Pins and Needles

Recap:

"I know. But, then again, it's all part of being married. For better or for worse, right?"

"Yeah," Hermione laughed bitterly. "But I was under the impression that 'or' meant the opposites were interchangeable."

* * *

Chapter 4: Pins and Needles

The house was hauntingly quiet without Kamal. Galen and Sitara hardly left the sanctuary of their bedroom or the backroom directly across from it, leaving Hermione and the others to their own devices. Weeks went by without incident, but, cruelly, that only caused them more worry. They needed information to keep sane. Not knowing was just as bad as knowing the worst. And that was definitely what they expected. Even the papers were dry of detail and talked little of Voldemort and the like.

Hermione and Draco had made up, but his attitude seemed icier than usual. He was rigid with her to the point of being offensive. When she brought up this fact, or others, he would brush her off and change the subject. Or not talk at all. She confided in Melantha, having long talks into the night, but they only served to ease the worry slightly. And when she saw Draco again it all came back.

But what had she expected? That they would get married and live happily ever after? She could never expect pure happiness from Draco, and yet she found herself disappointed, as though she _had_ expected such outlandish things from him. As if he was capable of them. She knew it would be difficult, a down right pain. But the situation at hand just didn't seem right. He was far more closed off than he should have been.

And she wasn't going to stand for it anymore. She had enough of playing nice.

"Why did you marry me?" Hermione asked coldly, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes narrow and icy.

Draco remained collected, though inside he was wondering how he could possibly come out of this with all his limbs intact.

"What—"

"Don't give me a fucking bullshit answer, Draco!" she snapped before he would form his words. Yes. He would definitely lose something. "I'm serious! You've been as much of a husband as petrified wood these past few weeks! I didn't marry you to fight this battle everyday. I was under the impression that we were past all that childishness. But," she sighed, her breathing a little labored but her voice considerably lower, "apparently I'm the only one who matured."

"Maybe you haven't noticed," Draco started slowly, "but I just happen to have a hell of a lot on my mind! And bending to your every whim isn't on the list!"

"I don't want you to 'bend to my every whim'! I want you to be my husband!"

They seethed at each other for several minutes, their eyes a lightening storm between them.

"I love you Draco," she whispered, almost sadly, her head bowing just slightly. "But we can't continue on like this. I know a lot is going on, but while we wait we're getting further apart. I can't stand the thought…the thought…of losing you."

Draco's shoulders relaxed and he pulled her to him almost roughly, her body falling into him like a missing puzzle piece. There was a deep, calm silence and an unspoken understanding. They would always be a couple that fought, relentlessly even, but in the end they still loved each other and _nothing_ could change that. Neither doubted they would be having this same fight a hundred times over for years to come.

He kissed her forehead and the space between her eyes. Her big, soft chocolate eyes. Then finally, washing over him like a gentle breeze, she softened against him completely, and all fears and arguments vanished, if only for a moment.

"Don't be cold to me," she whispered, though it could have easily been mistaken as a whimper. And it was at that moment that Draco realized that, as strong and resilient as she was, she could also be fragile and broken-down. She was two months pregnant and here he was feeding her spoonfuls of stress with her tea. This was _not_ how a husband should act!

"I won't," he whispered back, his emotions flooding him. But he fought the urge to push her away and leave the room in search of solitude, his neutral switch. No. She needed him right now and—no matter how strong the feeling was—he would stay with her. Because as much as he was uncomfortable expressing his deeper emotions, he was still in love with his wife.

"Draco…" Her entire body gave a great sigh. "I hardly know you…"

He wanted to say, "No. Of course you know me. I'm your husband!" But the instant the words entered his head he knew they weren't true. There were parts of him, carefully hidden and guarded on all fronts, that no one would ever know. Hermione was the first to have but a glimpse of those parts, but they were so shrouded with darkness that they were mere shadows, echoes of something that could have been normal.

He felt dead inside all of a sudden. Unworthy to be holding a woman so warm and full of life that her light was actually able to penetrate him.

"I'm sorry…"

She looked up, her face hiding nothing, and held his eyes. He didn't flinch; his mind screamed to run, but his feet were like cement. She had so much power over him.

"I know," she said, then smiled and rested her head on his chest. "That's why it's ok."

* * *

"You mean I get to see Hermione?" Ron asked, aghast. No. He had to be dreaming. In a moment he would wake up, disappointed, in his own bed.

"That's precisely what I mean," laughed Dumbledore, his fingers pointed in a steeple. "But we must leave at once if we are to arrive by nightfall. Voldemort knows that you have caught wind of his plans and must be on the move as we speak."

"What about the others?" He glanced out the window to where Harry, Ginny, and Lavender sat on a picnic blanket in the yard. Dumbledore had arrived ten minutes before, pulling Ron hastily from the romantic meal. "What about my fiancée and my sister? What about Harry? Or…or the baby?" All of a sudden leaving seemed cowardly and not the gift it had first appeared. He would love to see Hermione, spend time with her, helping out when she needed in preparation for their new baby. But then what would become of those he left behind? He couldn't possibly leave his future wife, his best friend, his sister, and his future nephew to save himself!

"I assure you that they will be in the best of care."

"I can't do it," Ron said firmly, his eyes narrowing. "I can't leave them. Not to protect myself."

"That's what I'd hoped you'd say," Dumbledore beamed. He patted Ron on the shoulder, giving him a look he had only seen his Headmaster give Harry. He was proud, and nothing could take that away from him. "Because no matter what Voldemort will come after you, whether you are here or not."

"Then we should all leave. Find some place safe."

"Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody have agreed to move you all to a safer location and stay to provide adequate protection. Especially for Miss Weasley."

"So Ginny really is in the most danger?" He bit his lip as he said this, his fears rising in his throat.

"Of those here, yes. The child of Harry Potter would be a very valuable thing to someone like Voldemort. But, as things stand, Miss Granger is what he wants the most. And the reason he is after you—" Ron held his breath. A many weeks ago he had been informed that he was in danger, though no one ever told him why. Members of the Order were placed outside his house, but there was not a murmur of the truth. Now he was going to find out why. "—is because of how highly she regards you."

"But surely Harry—"

"Lord Voldemort can know your deepest secrets even without the use of Legilimens. And it is you, Mr. Weasley, who Hermione treasures most outside of her own family. In all actuality she views you as part of her family."

"I don't understand." He frowned. Not out of sadness, for he was elated, but out of confusion. Did this mean Harry was less important to Hermione than himself?

"No," Dumbledore answered. "She does not see Harry any lesser. But, in all the time she has known him, she has viewed him as a brother. Her love for him is familial. Her love for you is somewhat different."

"She loves Malfoy," he said a little too harshly. Yes he had accepted this fact, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.

"And very much so," Dumbledore said, his smile not fading. "But that does not overshadow the fact that she loved you _first_. And first loves are never forgotten. I trust you know what I mean."

Ron nodded slowly, his eyes hazy just a little. Hermione still loved him, as he did her. Though he knew it was nothing of the love she had for Malfoy, or the love he had for Lavender. But the thought still sent chills through him, while at the same time making him feel warm all over. It was a softer love, somewhere in between what he felt for Lavender and what he felt for Ginny. Though no lesser.

"Hermione is very important to me," Ron said after a long moment. Then, "Where are we to go?"

"Come along." He placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, turning him slightly away, pointed towards the door. "Let us fill in the others first."

* * *

_Hermione stood with her hands clenched together before her, teetering on the balls of her feet. She looked around, taking in the abandoned classroom, it's shelves empty save for dust, and dozens of old desks stacked all around—in other words, anywhere but at _him

_"You weren't so shy a few nights ago," Draco said, his voice low and sensual, as he took deliberately slow steps towards her. She made to move, but he grabbed her wrists, tilting his head to catch her eyes._

_"I think this was a mistake," she said; it was the first thing that popped into her head. And she really did believe this. She almost didn't show, but a nagging feeling in her gut told her it would have been wrong to ditch him. And to that gut feeling she had thought, "But what has Malfoy ever done for me?"_

_"Why?" He was now pressed against her, one arm snaked around her waist. She resisted the urge to kiss him, to feel that burst of pleasure surge through her. Though she had been drunk her first time, she was definitely of sound mind in the Astronomy Tower. Oh the things he did to her…_

_"I'm really not in the right state of mind right now, Malfoy."_

_"Draco," he corrected, brushing his lips across her forehead._

_"I came here tonight to tell you something." At her tone his back stiffened. "I've decided—" She took a deep breath. "—to get rid of the baby."_

_"You can't be serious." But he knew she was._

_"Draco!" she hissed, shoving him back. "How am I supposed to raise a baby without a father? Without being able to tell everyone—_my best friends_—who the father is? It's impossible! And I'm only eighteen! I can't have a baby! My parents will kill me..."_

_"I can't let you do that." He had heard horror stories about abortion. His child would _not_ suffer that fate. "It's my baby too, Granger. And I say it lives."_

_"I-I can't," she cried, bursting with tears. She collapsed on the floor, her breaths in great heaving sobs. All Draco could do was stand there and watch. He didn't know the first thing about comforting someone. Let alone his enemy for the past seven years who he had subsequently gotten pregnant. "It's too hard! It won't work! I'll break down and tell someone! And then we'll be in danger. I just…I can't have that on my shoulders. This is too much."_

_"I don't care," he heard himself say, his anger getting the better of him. He reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders, yanking her to her feet. "You will have that child and I will be a part of their life. I don't care how hard it's going to be for you. Do you have any idea how much danger _I_ am in? If someone caught wind of this I would be cursed within hours!"_

_"That's all you care about!" Hermione screamed, pushing him back so hard that he nearly fell over. "Yourself! I don't matter! The baby doesn't matter! It's all about you and it always will be! That's just another reason for me to do this!"_

_"If you so much as _think_ about it I will not hesitate to inform Potter and Weasley of our fun together." His voice was full of vengeance._

_"You wouldn't dare," she spat back, leveling his iron gaze. "If they know you're done for."_

_"You think so?" he laughed. "If I'm found out by the Dark Lord then so are you. Do you honestly believe he'll let it pass that a mudblood like you _seduced_ a pureblood like myself. He's likely to believe you're the reason I refused the Dark Mark and his service. So no, Granger, I don't think they would tell a soul. Besides, they would be too shamed to say a word. Their little rag doll consorting with the enemy? What a scandal!"_

_"FINE!" The pitch of her voice was so loud Draco found himself covering his ears. The pure rage in her eyes even startled him somewhat. Never had he seen her so angry. "I'll keep the baby! I'll lose my friends! I'll lose my family! My life! And all for someone who could care less whether I lived or died! Someone who I could care less about! Are you happy now!"_

_Every part of him wanted to say no, that he was miserable, but didn't know why. That when he looked at her he felt this ebbing pain inside that he couldn't explain. Every part, that is, except for his pride and arrogance._

_"Yes," he said, puffing up his chest. "I am."_

_"That'll change when you're in hell."_

_"I'll see you there."_

_"That might very well be true," she seethed. "I don't suppose giving birth to the child of a depraved monster is heaven-worthy. Good night, _Draco_."_

Her peaceful slumber was viciously snatched away at the sound of her husband tumbling out of bed. She scrambled over to him, her heart sinking when she saw tears staining his cheeks.

"Draco, what is it?" she whispered, kissing his face.

"I can't take this anymore, Hermione," he breathed painfully. "How can you love _me_?"

"What are you talking—"

"You know the truth!" And he sounded almost accusatory. "You know how badly I treated you even after you were pregnant! How I forced you to have the baby when you didn't want to. How I forced you to potentially give up _everything_! And for what? So _I_ could breathe easy! So _I_ didn't have to worry about Voldemort! You have to tell me." He grasped her arm so quickly that she let out an unintentional gasp. "How did you fall in love with someone so cruel?"

"Because," she sighed, a smile gracing her lips. "It wasn't you, not really. Once I cracked your outer shell I found the real you. The man I married. Everything else was fear compounded on stereotypes that you had been fed since you were a baby. For the life you've led, I'm surprised I was ever able to see the real you."

"I still don't understand. How could you look past it all? I _tortured_ you."

She kissed his forehead, tugging on his arm for him to sit on the bed. He obeyed, but only because he wanted the answer.

"You may have tortured me. Called me names, called my friends names. You might have threatened me, and you could have very well meant to follow through with your threats. You were a Slytherin, arrogant and vindictive. You saved me only to use me for sex, and when I told you I was pregnant you told me to I couldn't have the baby. Then I told you I was going to have an abortion, and so you struck back with more threats, using Voldemort even when you were being hunted by him yourself. You—"

"Hermione, please." She saw the agony in his eyes and nodded.

"My point is that, even after you'd done all that, even when I had lost all hope in you, you still _loved me_."

He looked completely baffled. Clearly this was not the answer he had been expecting.

"But—"

"You had it in you to love another person, and me of all people. When I realized you had a heart, I had nothing holding me back anymore. And I fell too."

"Hermione, I—"

"It's nine o'clock," she interrupted, smiling knowingly. "What do you want for breakfast?"

* * *

Ok there. How was that:) A little more flashback, and some insight on what has been going on outside the Blake residence. Now how could I make this even more angst-filled? Muhahahaha!

REVIEW!

**P.S. My updates (with both my stories) will have bigger gaps from now on. I will try my hardest, writing a little each day, but I'm not making any promises. This doesn't mean I will abandon my stories—I love them too much to do that :D It just means that I'm going back to college in a week and I have a lot to do before then. And then, when I get there, I'll have schoolwork and such. I'll still post, because I have my own computer and I'll be hooked up to the internet, but it just won't be as often. So hang in there :P**


	5. Draco's Decisions

Recap:

"You had it in you to love another person, and me of all people. When I realized you had a heart, I had nothing holding me back anymore. And I fell too."

"Hermione, I—"

"It's nine o'clock," she interrupted, smiling knowingly. "What do you want for breakfast?"

* * *

Chapter 5: Draco's Decisions

It was many months before anyone heard anything about Kamal, or the happenings of the Order for that matter. Hermione had been informed some time ago about Ron and the others; the move to safety had gone without incident and Ginny was in perfect health. Ron and Lavender's wedding had been put off until circumstances were better; but all anyone really cared about was everyone's safety. And as of now they were as safe as they could hope to be.

The sun had just begun to set when a loud "pop!" was heard in the kitchen. Galen and Sitara burst from the back room at the noise and, upon entering the kitchen, Sitara let out a horrendous scream.

"What the—" Hermione began, but her question was answered as Kamal entered the living room, trailed by a furious Galen and a hysterical Sitara. Kamal's face was covered in a series of cuts and scratches, along with a rather large gash on his forehead and a shining black eye. His once silken dark hair was gone, having been shaved off. But the most noticeable difference was the coldness behind his crystalline blue eyes. Clearly they had seen and/or experienced the "horrors" of the outside world his parents had guarded him against.

He was _not_ the Kamal Hermione had met three months ago.

"What happened!" Sitara cried, clinging to her son's arm. He shook her off and walked directly over to Draco. And no one was more surprised than he was.

"Draco," Kamal said, sounding official, as if this were an assignment from the Order. He offered him his hand. Draco took it hesitantly. "I would like to offer you my deepest apologies for the way I disrespected you and your wife. I was out of line and I ask your forgiveness."

"Er." Draco hadn't he faintest idea of how to respond. He was far more comfortable with and accustomed to tension; truces were not something he did. Even his and Hermione's relationship was full of holes. "Sure…"

"Thank you."

Then without another word to anyone—even Hermione—he left for his room.

"This is all your fault," Sitara seethed, pointing a jagged finger at Hermione. "You corrupted him!"

"Yes and I'm sure eighteen years of isolation did him wonders!" Hermione shot back, courtesy and manners gone to the wind.

"Now Sitara—" Melantha began.

"Don't _you_ dare interfere. You've done enough already."

"You know what? No. I am going to say what I will, because it needs to be said. You two—" She pointed shakily at Sitara and Galen. "—did the worst possible thing when _my _husband was murdered. You hid away like cowards! You sheltered your son to everything, bad and good. He has known nothing of a childhood or love other than familial love! And a person needs more than that! He should not have had his first experience with death and terror at age twenty!"

The Blakes were silent, Melantha's words slowly sinking in. She was right after all, but how could she possibly understand the fear that lived in their hearts?

"You're one to talk," Galen bit out, still unable to accept defeat. "Going off to _join_ You-Know-Who, leaving your infant son with the very people who hurt you and _my brother_!"

"At least I could admit my wrongs and have righted them! You're still clinging to some imaginary world where no one gets hurt, or at least not more than once…Kamal deserves a right to know the world for what it really is, even if that means he'll get hurt."

"What do you know of motherhood?" Sitara hissed venomously.

Melantha's arm swung out before she realized she'd wanted to strike her. Sitara toppled back into her husband, her cheekbone already red from the blow.

"How dare you!"

"How dare _you_! I made a terrible mistake, but I am making an attempt to correct it! I'm here for my son now, and his family. I accept them and whatever they wish out of life, even if that means both Draco and Hermione are destined to be Aurors and will fight in this war. It pains me to know that they might die in the fight, but if it's something they're willing to die for then I support them! I trust their judgment well enough and I love them for it. You love only your model of a son. The Kamal that is here now is not the man he was. And if you're going to get through this you're going to have to accept that."

And this time neither Galen nor Sitara could think of a thing to say.

* * *

Hermione found Kamal after dinner, which he hadn't come down to. He was sitting on his bed, back straight, a book perched on his knees. After she'd shut the door he finally looked up, that same deadness in his eyes. It seemed to freeze her soul.

"May I have a word?" she asked almost timidly. She wasn't sure how to approach this new person.

"Of course." He set his book on the nightstand, then patted the space beside him. But he never smiled. Not even a hint. "What about?"

"Are you ok, Kamal?" She caught his eyes and regretted it. "You're so—"

"Cold?" he suggested with no emotion either way.

"Yeah…"

"It's like Melantha said this afternoon. I could hear the argument all the way up here. I have been sheltered all my life. I was not prepared for the world I walked into. I don't regret it though. What I regret is not making the decision to leave sooner."

"Are you going to be here for awhile?"

"No," he answered shortly. "I think one night is all that I could bear. Dumbledore wanted me to take a break and go home. I refused at first, because I didn't want to see my parents. I'm still so furious at them. I know I'll forgive them in time, but right now I deserve my anger…Tonight I will rest, and tomorrow afternoon I'm going back."

"I've missed you, Kamal. The house seems so small without you."

"Forgive me for that, Hermione. But I must do what's right."

"I know," she sighed. "I know." She stood, her hands clasped before her. "Just be careful, alright? Don't charge into battle without thinking."

"I will remember that," he said, cracking as close to a smile as he was ever going to. "And thank you for your concern. I value it greatly."

"Thank you for hearing me out. Good night, Kamal."

"Good night, Hermione."

* * *

"What an idiot," Draco scoffed that night in bed. Hermione sat beside him, a book propped on her knees. Dante was fast asleep in his cradle, and hadn't made a fuss, a value in their household.

"I don't think you want to go down that road, Draco," she said smoothly. "I have far more ammo than you and I'm not afraid to use it. Kamal is a noble man, end of story."

Surprisingly he backed off, turned over, and got into a sleeping position. Hermione sighed and set her book on the nightstand. She reached over, spooning him; something she knew he hated.

"It's the man's job!" he would say.

"What's bothering you?" she asked right away. For so long she had been in the habit of beating around the bush when it came to her husband. Since they'd come here she decided to just throw caution to the wind and say what she wanted to say when she wanted to say it. Of course this wasn't always a good thing, but at least she was be true to herself, something she had been absent about for a long time.

"Everything," he said stiffly.

"Could you elaborate?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Go to bed, Hermione. I'm tired. We'll talk in the morning."

"No we won't," she said firmly, finding her footing. She turned him over to face her. "We're talking now. You weren't tired until I shut you down about Kamal. You're being bitter with me for no reason; just because I prevented a fight. Well, here's another fight, so you better participate. Now what is wrong?"

"I should be out there too!" he cried, sitting up so fast she hardly had time to dodge him. Their heads were inches from smacking each other. "That boy has known nothing of what I have known! I've been on both sides! I know the story and the plots! I know it all and I deserve my revenge! I deserve the chance to defend my wife and family! I don't have the time or patience or personality to sit around and wait!" When he finished he was breathing so hard it would appear that he'd just run a marathon. He eased back against the headboard, attempting to calm himself.

"If you really want to go then I can't stop you," she said solemnly, her heart breaking as the words came out. The truth was that her heart had been breaking a little each day, for she knew the reason for his distance and bad moods. She'd only wanted to hear it from him. Yesterday she made the decision that she wouldn't try to stop him if he wanted to go. It was his life too, after all, and she shouldn't have sway over it. No matter how much it hurt her, deep down it was the right thing to do.

"You're not serious." And his facial expression matched his words. If she hadn't been so upset she might be inclined to laugh; he looked so adorable like that.

"I'm very serious. You're a grown-up. You have a right to make your own decisions. Hell, if I wasn't pregnant I'd be right out there with you too. But I can't, and like I said, I can't stop you."

There was a long, agonizing silence that followed. Hermione twisted the sheets in front of her while Draco stared into space. Finally he looked at her, placing a hand on hers to cease her nervous twitch.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, then kissed her softly, yet passionately, on the lips. And that was his answer. He was going, she could feel it in her soul. This was his way of telling her. They would have one last passion-filled night together before saying good-bye. Perhaps for a few weeks or months. Perhaps years. And perhaps even forever.

It wasn't until the next morning, as he was preparing to leave, that the full impact of his decision hit her. This could very well be the last time she saw him. And she was _not_ prepared for it. But she refused to cry. Crying would only cause his to stay, something she knew now that he couldn't do. He had a duty, an honor.

Melantha had a harder time holding back her emotions. She coughed into a handkerchief as she watched her only son pack his one bag. She would be escorting him and Kamal to Dumbledore, who was expecting them this evening. Hermione had little doubt that she would fully break down upon having to leave.

They were afforded some alone time together before he left. Twenty minutes at most in their bedroom. Not much was said, but their gestures and stiffness said it all. Neither knew what could or would happen. They both feared the worst but we too superstitious to say it. So instead they held each other, kissing now and then, and enjoying the little time they had left.

It was all too soon when he stood to leave. But instead of clinging to his arm like she wanted, Hermione let him go. She couldn't bear walking him downstairs and to the carriage. It would hurt too much. And so she stayed, curled in a ball after the door closed. When she was sure they were gone, she burst into such a violent flood of tears that Sitara came into the room to comfort her. In that moment they formed an unspoken bound. They made a truce and would now stick together.

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" she whimpered into the older woman's chest.

"Because the world isn't perfect," Sitara whispered back, stroking Hermione's full chocolate locks. She gave her a motherly kiss on the forehead, bringing herself comfort as she did so. She too was pining over the loss of her son; Draco and Kamal were going off into the unknown, a world Sitara hardly knew about or experienced and had been hiding from for so long, and which Hermione had known glimpses over but never felt its full power. She would give anything to be at his side, but knew her place was here with Dante and their second child, growing strong in her belly.

"I know one thing." Hermione sat back, wiping at her tears. "If this is a boy," she said, a pitiful laugh behind her voice, "I'm naming him Draco Jr. He would want that."

"Don't talk of him in the past tense," Sitara scolded, though she had been in the habit over referring to Kamal like that to Galen. "He's coming back, just like my son."

"Will Galen ever forgive Malentha? Or me?"

"He's had a hard life," she sighed. "Dante was not the first family member he lost to just tragedy. Their mother died fighting a different adversary than You-Know-Who, and his sister has been dying of her wounds for years now. She lives at St. Mungo's, barely alive."

Hermione held her reaction with expertise. She hadn't known that.

"So I guess what I'm saying is that I don't know if he'll ever get over his demons. He tried, he truly does. But there are just some things he cannot overcome, and especially not without help."

"I have nothing better to do," Hermione said with a shrug, but there was so much more meaning behind it. _Since when did I start becoming Draco?_ But the mere thought of him made her eyes well up again and she wept until there were no more tears.

* * *

"You've been very quiet," Melantha said to Draco. Kamal had fallen asleep instantly on the seat opposite them. "A lot on your mind?"

"No," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his reflection in the window.

"You're going to have to be my son eventually, you know. We had a start when you defended me against Sitara. But—"

"I didn't want to leave," he said, surprisingly them both. He hadn't thought to speak, but the words came against his will. "But I have to. We both knew that, and she's the one who told me to go, more or less." He pressed his forehead against the glass, its coolness doing nothing to ease his pain. "She didn't cry."

"She was waiting for you to leave." But she couldn't know any more than he did. "She didn't want you to go any more than you wanted to leave. And there's still time to go back."

"I've made my decision, mother. I'm going. I have to. I can't live with myself any longer just sitting around. And especially not after seeing what it can do to you." He gestured to the sleeping Kamal, who didn't stir.

"I love you, Draco. You're my son above all. I'm there for you, no matter what. And I wish you luck."

"Thanks." He shrugged, still unable to look at her. The truth was that he did want to reconcile with her and act like her son, but it was still too soon. Not even a year since he'd found out the truth. How was he supposed to adapt so quickly? But she was being patient and he appreciated that. It did help a great deal that when he thought of their relationship he always thought of Dante, and their soon-to-be second baby, and how he would feel if one or both of them harbored intensely bad feelings towards him or Hermione. And that got him to thinking about how truthful they would be in the future, what they would and would not tell their children about them, how they came together and what a bumpy road it had been.

_That's if I survive_, he thought bitterly. Because there was always a chance that he could die.

"I'll take good care of Hermione and the babies," Melantha said, kissing his cheek. He jerked back instantly, wiping the place her lips had been.

"I probably won't be around when she has the baby," he groaned, punching his leg. He wanted to turn back now more than anything he'd ever felt before. But his love for Hermione and his family held him strong. Who would fight for them if he didn't?

"I'll keep you informed…if I can find you."

"I'm making no promises," he said stiffly.

Melantha bowed her head and nodded. Draco sighed and placed a hand on hers, causing her to nearly jump out of her seat. But he stuck to the gesture; now was as good a time as any to start being the proper son. And she needed the comfort, for he had made two decision: he was leaving his family to protect them and he was going to search for Voldemort, no matter who stood in his way, and get the revenge he was his so rightly deserved.

"You're not a…bad mother."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'll be fine," he insisted.

"You said you wouldn't make promises," she laughed bitterly.

"I have to come back."

But Melantha only nodded, feeling for the third time in her life that she had lost her son.

* * *

Sorry for such a long delay. I've been very, very, very busy. And I've had a little writer's block with this story. But now I'm rolling again. I might still have big gaps, what with all my schoolwork, but I will never abandon this story. It's my baby :)

REVIEW and I shall update:D


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